Lie With Me (Stonewall Investigations Miami 2)

But still, Oliver worked to move my mind away from the twisting dagger.

“We could have been good,” I said, my voice cracking. I imagined a world in which we were good. Where I would visit him and his partner and have dinners with them and introduce them to Oliver and move past all the trauma that had been inflicted. “I would have worked on forgiving him. On making things better.”

“I know you would have, Beck. And I know things would have gotten better.” Oliver’s eyes seemed to dig through all the muck that was floating about me, threatening to suffocate me. “There’s nothing to work on for now except yourself. That’s what his message is really about. He’s found his peace; now it’s time you get yours.”

Oliver’s words hit home, and they hit hard.

“You’re right,” I said, after a brief moment of cicada-filled silence. “It’ll take some time. I won’t lie. But I think I’ll find some peace over all this.”

“You will.” Oliver rested his head on my shoulder. I had never felt so connected with someone else than I felt with Oliver in that moment. It was as if I’d been propelled out of my body and was looking at the two of us from the outside, as though we were painted into a picture destined to be framed next to a classic masterpiece.

“I love you, Oliver. So, so much. It’s almost painful.”

Oliver lifted his head from my shoulder. He looked a little awestruck, his jaw slightly open. And then he said the words I’d been dying to hear from him.

“I love you, too, Beck. More than you can ever know.”

We kissed under the moonlight, the proclamation of love from the both of us spilling over into the moment like an overflowing glass of the most expensive wine.

The weight of it all didn’t escape me. I hadn’t told someone I loved them since my last long-term relationship, which ended five years ago. I hadn’t found anyone since, and I was resigning myself to thinking that there would be no one else.

Then in walked Oliver into my life. “Remember when you introduced yourself to me as Jamison?”

Oliver’s eyes opened wide, and he let out a surprised laugh. “I do, yes. It was because I saw a bottle of Jamison behind the bar and couldn’t think of anything else. God, that feels like it was years ago, huh?”

“It does.” I kissed Oliver again, never wanting to stop. “I’m happy you ended up telling me your real name.”

“Me too.” Oliver smiled as he kissed me, neither of us able to keep our lips separated for long. “I’m also glad I got the guts to talk to you that night. I was so close to just apologizing for bumping into you and walking away.”

“Really?”

“Deadass.”

“Dead… what?”

“Deadass, it means dead serious.” Oliver must have picked up on the face I gave him. “I know, I know. Deadass, it’s weird.”

We both laughed, the roller coaster of a night felt like it was pulling up to a stop. My father’s letter was folded up next to me.

“I’m glad I didn’t walk away that night, too. I was close.”

Oliver turned to me. “You were?” His eyebrow arched, his eyes narrowed. “What were you scared about?”

“About a handsome young man talking to me and then quickly finding out that we had nothing in common, so that handsome young man would then transform into a proper knobhead and end up making me feel like shit.”

Oliver’s brows rose. “What? As if that would ever—”

“Happen? It happened right before we met. It was embarrassing and the last thing I needed that night. So yeah, it scared me when we met. I thought you’d do the same.”

I was being fully honest. It wasn’t that I had been lying to Oliver before now, but I felt as though the floodgates had truly opened tonight. There was no more hiding from each other. I’d told him I loved him, and it was something I meant with my entire soul.

Deadass.

“I’d never even think of making you feel like shit. And I’m glad the guy before me was a ‘knobhead’—which by the way is now going into my daily vocabulary— because if he wasn’t a ‘knobhead,’ then I wouldn’t get to be here with you.” Oliver’s eyes were practically glowing. “And I wouldn’t get to touch your ‘knobhead.’ Boom! Three in a row.”

Oliver’s laughter was infectious. So was his optimism, his joy. It made the rest of the night go by in a blur. We stayed outside talking until the sun was breaking through the horizon, dousing the sky in a purplish-orange hue. By then, we were both yawning and stretching and having a hell of a good time. Even with the letter still next to me, even with the reminder that a huge part of my life had been an unnecessary lie, even then, I was still able to let go and live in the moment, talking about anything and everything with the man who completed me on every level, from a molecular one to a spiritual one.